


secrets, super soldiers, and Stiles

by sinequanon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-24 13:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17101586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: An attack on the Stilinski home leaves the Sheriff mortally wounded and Stiles missing. Unsure of where to turn, Peter and Chris find help from an unlikely quarter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Usually, I try to give my fics at least shades of canon compliance—that does not apply here. This is completely AU for both TW and the MCU. 
> 
> Have fun!

Stiles’s brain was pounding as he tried to consider his options. The gunshots may have stopped for the moment, but he had no doubt they'd start up again soon.

He knew that there was no way he could beat these guys—there were just too many of them—but he needed to keep them out of the house long enough to get help for his dad. If he could hold them off long enough for the deputies to get here, maybe his dad would have a chance.

Stiles took a shaky, sobbing breath and tried to focus on something other than the smell of blood that permeated his house. The majority of the pack was away for two weeks doing werewolf-y bonding things that Stiles had _no_ interest in seeing (once was more than enough to scar him for life), and Bucky was dark on some top secret mission somewhere in Europe.

Peter and Chris were, well…if he started thinking about the ways that the two of them had spent a lot of time in the last few months awkwardly wooing him and—

They weren’t here, and he couldn’t afford to think of them right now. He just hoped that they would forgive him for what he was about to do.

The phone was slick in his hand, covered in both his and his dad's blood, but he couldn't leave without calling _someone_. He needed to tell them before it was too late—

Stiles heard the front door crash open just as Deaton came on the line and he dropped his voice to just loud enough to be heard over the noise.

“I have to let them take me,” Stiles told the vet, speaking over the other man’s customary greeting. “Tell everyone that I love them, and save my dad. _Please._  You have to bring Peter.”

He hung up without waiting for a reply, hurriedly made sure his dad and his phone were out of sight, and stepped out into the hallway.

<> <>

“ _Come with me. James, please.”_

_There was something different in her eyes today—a resolve that hadn't been there before. If he'd had the energy, he would have smiled._

_He didn't know what had triggered it, but she’d finally decided to run. If anyone could make it, it was her. He also knew that in his current condition, he’d only slow her down._

_The look on her face said that she knew it, too._

_Her usually hard eyes were bright with tears, and he knew that if he agreed to go with her, she’d do everything in her power to protect him and they'd both be caught. Bucky wanted to reach out and console her, but he barely had the strength to speak, let alone raise his arm._

_She gripped his hand, instead, hard enough to bruise. “Promise me you'll find me when you get out of here. I'm not leaving until you promise me you won't give up.”_

_Bucky looked at the woman he loved like a sister, and hoped that he wasn't making himself a liar when he rasped, “I'll always find you, Claudia_.”

Bucky came awake with a jerk that nearly sent him out of his seat and into Steve’s lap, a ball of dread sitting heavily in his stomach. He ignored Tony's amused smirk and Bruce’s curious gaze as he resituated himself and closed his eyes once more, the dream fresh in his mind.

That had been the last time he'd seen Claudia, though it had been _her_ voice, just as much as his memories of Steve, that had helped him hang on to his humanity for as long as he had under the onslaught of his torture.

After his deprogramming as the Winter Soldier, he remembered the promise that he had made and had gone searching for his friend. He hadn't managed to find Claudia, who had passed away some years before, but he had found her son.

Dreams of Claudia inevitably led to thoughts of Stiles, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

No matter how hard the two of them had worked to keep each other secret from their respective friends and family members, there was always the risk that one or both of them would be discovered and end up in the hands of HYDRA—a rescued super soldier and the child of the only soldier ever to escape them—and neither one of them wanted their loved ones to have to dwell on that possibility. During their few, clandestine meetings, Bucky had taught Stiles as much as he could about how to defend himself against any operatives he might encounter, and Stiles had taught him how to be human again.

The unfortunate thing about that secrecy was that now, when Bucky desperately wanted to call his nephew, he couldn't do so without raising questions from his friends. Of course, if Stiles was in immediate danger, Bucky might need to ask for the Avengers’ assistance, and he refused to let Stiles die for the sake of his secrets. Unwilling to ignore the uneasy feeling any longer, he reached for his bag.

Swearing lowly under his breath, Bucky searched through his belongings for the private phone he used for only one purpose and started dialing, only to swear much louder when the phone went straight to voicemail.

“Sergeant Barnes? Is everything all right?” Coulson asked.

This particular phone was to be kept on at all times, with the understanding that if the phone wasn't on, it was because Stiles literally _couldn't_ answer the phone and needed help as soon as possible.

The former assassin tossed that phone aside with a frustrated growl—ignoring everyone's stares and Steve’s concerned voice as he tried to ask what was wrong—and reached for his everyday phone instead. Stiles had given him two numbers to use in this situation, and though he hesitated to use either one, his nephew had assured him that they could be trusted. Bucky dialed the first number and waited for the man on the other line to answer.

<> <>

The best part about the conciliatory relationship between the police and the supernatural authority of Beacon Hills was that no one tried to stop them when Chris and Peter swept past the deputies guarding the scene and headed straight inside to the Sheriff.

Stiles's father was unconscious, his heartbeat erratic, and Peter trusted Chris to get all of the relevant information from Jordan as his focus narrowed in on the man he was about to bite.

Deaton hadn't explained the situation when he’d called—although he probably hadn't known exactly what the situation was—and Peter was suddenly glad for it, because it wasn't just the Sheriff's blood he could smell, and he couldn't save Stiles's father if his wolf was raging over Stiles.

Peter felt Chris’s hand clasp his shoulder, and he used the touch to ground himself to the task at hand. He would save the Sheriff first, and then he'd hunt down the people who had taken Stiles and make them regret that they had ever set foot in his territory.

Peter could hear Jordan's voice saying something about automatic weapons and fingerprints, and Chris saying something in return, but all the conversations tapered off as Peter leaned over the Sheriff and bit. There was a long, tense silence as everyone waited to see if the bite would take, and Peter wasn't the only one who breathed a sigh of relief when the Sheriff suddenly took a deep breath and his wounds began closing.

The unexpected chirp of Chris’s phone was loud in the hush of the room, and more than one deputy half-heartedly glared at Chris as he stepped outside to take the call. The number was unfamiliar, but Chris had taken enough calls from strangers looking to pass through the territory over the years that he didn't even attempt to identify the number on his screen before he greeted the person on the other line.

“This is Argent.”

“Is Stiles with you?” a brusque, unfamiliar voice asked.

Startled, Chris quickly scanned the surrounding area for possible threats, and found none; but who would know that Stiles was in danger other than the kidnappers themselves? “Who is this?”

“ _Is Stiles with you_?” the man asked again.

Chris could hear multiple voices in the background, but nothing that gave him a clue about the identity of the caller. If this guy thought he was going to intimidate the hunter, however, he was mistaken. “I don’t know who you are, but if you've done anything to him—”

“I’ll be there in sixteen hours,” the voice said flatly, just before the line went dead.

Just under sixteen hours later, the man formerly known as the Winter Soldier was pushing his way past a shocked werewolf and into the alpha’s home, a group of surprisingly shocked superheroes trailing after him.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles glared into the harsh lights of the room where he was being held and groaned in frustration. If he had been handcuffed, or tied up, or even chained to the ceiling, he probably would have been able to get loose fairly quickly; it might have involved dislocating some things, but it would be a small price to pay to get out of this freaky lab.

The metal bars holding him to the table weren't impossible to escape, but it was going to take a lot longer to maneuver, and he wasn't sure what sort of timeframe he was working under. Bucky had no doubt realized he was missing by now, but there was no way of knowing whether they were dealing with agents or hunters, and there were markedly different ways of dealing with the two groups.

Most notably, it would be much harder to cover up the sudden disappearances of federal agents. He could do it, of course--Bucky had taught him remarkably well considering their limited time together--but he needed to keep things as low-key as possible if he didn't want even more people to come after him later.

Hopefully, whoever had grabbed him would be making an appearance soon, so he could figure out how to get himself out of there. The “strapped to a table” look really wasn't his favorite, the room was surprisingly drafty, and he really didn't want his next date with Peter and Chris to be from a hospital bed, so he needed to get out of here before his abductors could do any more damage.

<> <>

Sheriff Stilinski was nobody's fool. He had known his chance of survival was slim as soon as he felt the first bullet hit, and he had stayed conscious just long enough for him to hear his son’s hitched breathing as he tried to pull his dad to safety. It had broken his heart that his final words to his son were going to be broken assurances (lies) that they would be okay, and his last thought had been that he hated that Stiles would have to watch his dad die, too.

Since he was neither dead nor in the hospital, he could only assume that the supernatural had come into play, and considering he could hear noises he was sure he _shouldn't_ be hearing (and there were multiple voices downstairs that he didn't recognize, which worried him even more) he assumed that the intervention in question had come from Peter.

Not that he wasn't grateful to be alive, but the only sound he was interested in hearing at the moment was his son's voice, even if it meant catching Stiles doing something with Chris or Peter that the Sheriff _definitely_ didn't want to hear. It frightened him that Stiles wasn't in the house, and no matter how hard to tried to stretch his newfound senses, he didn't hear any sign of Stiles.

New werewolf or no, the Sheriff had absolutely no intention of lying around waiting for news on his son. He recognized the room he was in from the handful of times that Stiles had been injured and forced to stay the night, and thankfully, the clothes he was wearing were his own, so he felt reasonably comfortable in moving around the space while he formulated a plan to find his boy.

As a matter of fact, at second glance, he noticed that quite a few of his things were in the room. He didn't know if that was due to damage to his own house, or Peter's attempt to ease him into the pack, but whatever the reason, it was a welcome touch that would help him start searching for Stiles faster, if only because he didn't have to stop at home first.

Noah knew enough about werewolves to know that he probably _shouldn't_ go searching for his son right now, but Stiles wasn't the only Stilinski who didn't bother with _shoulds_ and _shouldn'ts_ when someone he loved was in danger. Of course, as the alpha, Peter would probably try to keep him from leaving, if only to keep everyone safe; but frankly, if Peter expected to flash his eyes and be obeyed, the alpha didn't know the Stilinskis very well at all.

<> <>

Peter stared openly, momentarily startled from his thoughts of vengeance against whoever had taken Stiles by the visitors at his door.

There had been many unexpected guests in his house over the years--usually accompanied by an excess of claws, bullets, or blood--but superheroes on his doorstep were something that the alpha couldn't have anticipated.

Chris had mentioned the strange call from earlier, but they had expected to see someone from the coven Stiles had made friends with in college, or even one of the supernaturals he'd met during his studies abroad.

Of course, aside from the scowling man with the metal arm, each of the Avengers looked as stunned as Peter felt, though the man couldn't imagine why _they_ would be surprised. They were, after all, the ones who had shown up on _his_ doorstep.  
  
The metal-armed man (and perhaps Peter should have paid more attention when Stiles talked about his favorite superheroes, because the alpha likely should have known the man's name), narrowed his gaze at the werewolf in a way that was distinctly unsettling.  
  
"Peter," he greeted, before pushing past the other man and into the house without so much as a backward glance.  
  
Peter watched the man, who immediately stepped up to Chris, for a long moment before he turned back to the rest of the people still waiting outside his door. Steve Rogers sent him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about this, but I'm sure Bucky can explain. He hasn't told us anything either, except that he needed to get to California as quickly as possible. He was willing to jump out of the jet, if necessary," he added, when Peter made no effort to move to allow them inside.  
  
"Peter," Chris called, moving up next to his husband and lightly brushing his arm when the alpha still didn't move, "let them in. Mr. Barnes is the one who called about Stiles. They can help."  
  
The alpha shot Bucky another considering, not-entirely-friendly look, but stepped aside to let the rest of them in.

A few minutes and pointless pleasantries later, everyone was settled into the living room, waiting for Bucky to explain the situation to them. Each person was interested in hearing what the man had to say: Peter and Chris, because they were hoping for information on Stiles's whereabouts; and the Avengers, because Bucky hardly ever spoke about himself to the extent he seemed to be gearing up to explain now.

"For a time, before I became the Winter Soldier, I was kept in a facility with many others who were being trained for service. It was there that I met and became friends with another prisoner named Claudia."Neither Peter nor Chris made a sound, but the alpha’s gaze sharpened, the hunter leaned forward slightly, and everyone could feel the tension in the room rise as the two men exchanged glances at the name.

“Claudia had much more freedom than I did, and I tried to convince her many times to get out of that place, but she always refused,” he continued.

Steve noticed the way his friend's hands were clenched at his sides, but he didn't reach out. “Why?” he asked curiously.

“She never said, and I never asked,” Bucky trailed off, eyes distant. “One day, she came to see me, and I knew as soon as I saw the look on her face that she was leaving. As far as I know, Claudia was the only person to ever escape from that facility.”

Tony frowned from where he was bent over his phone, obviously trying to find the details to Bucky’s story while he was telling it. “Why didn't she try to take you with her?”

"He was in the infirmary at the time, and in no condition to make the attempt,” Natasha interrupted, drawing everyone's attention. The Avengers knew that Bucky and Natasha had worked together in the past, but the two had thus far refused to share any details. It hadn't escaped anyone's notice, though, that Natasha had been the one to tell the pilot to change course as soon as Bucky had mentioned California. “The two of them wouldn't have made it, and it's unlikely that Claudia would have ever had another opportunity to escape, had that one failed.” Coulson raised his eyebrows at her, and she sighed. “I only have vague memories of that time. I was moved shortly after Claudia escaped, and I didn't know her well.”

“It's obvious that these two know who you're talking about,” Clint interrupted, gesturing at Peter and Chris, “but what does that have to do with this missing kid?”

The glint in Natasha’s eyes said that she had figured it out, but the rest of the Avengers still looked confused. Except for Coulson, of course, who looked grim.

“Although I wish you would have told me, I can see why you kept this a secret,” he told Bucky. “But if we want to find this young man, we're going to need to work together.”

When everyone except for Natasha and Bruce still looked puzzled, Coulson sighed. “Stiles is Claudia’s son,” he explained.

<> <>

Noah Stilinski's first steps through his alpha's living room went unnoticed, as Peter, Chris, Derek, Parrish, and the Avengers were gathered around the huge table that the Hales used for pack functions, staring down at any number of papers covering the area.  
  
"—I still don't think it's HYDRA," Bruce was saying as the Sheriff moved closer. "They don't go for big, showy things, and shooting up a small-town Sheriff's house is pretty showy."  
  
"It would make more sense for them to insert an agent into their lives, to gain their trust," Natasha agreed. She looked up at the deputy. "Have there been any new hires to the department in the last year or so?"  
  
"There's no reason that both HYDRA and hunters can't be in town," Derek pointed out, making the rest of them frown.  
  
"Well, thank you for that helpful observation, nephew. Why are you here, again?" Peter asked, a growl in his voice, and Noah felt an answering irritation from his own wolf. If Derek wasn't going to be useful—

“Sheriff, you're awake."  
  
Everyone followed Parrish's gaze to where the new werewolf was standing a few feet away. The man looked as healthy as he had before he'd been shot; the only hint that anything had changed were the glowing eyes locked onto the scene before him.  
  
"Where's my son?" he questioned the room-at-large.  
  
Agent Coulson opened his mouth, obviously ready to introduce himself and his companions, but Peter cut in before he could, well aware that the Sheriff was in no mood for pleasantries at the moment. Besides, if Stiles _hadn't_ explained these superheroes to his father over the past few years, Peter would willingly turn his alpha power over to Derek.

“That's what we're trying to figure out," he said simply, gesturing his newest beta forward. He didn't bother telling the man that his wolf was too volatile, or his body still recovering, to be involved in the rescue effort; he had no doubt the man would take his head off if Peter in any way kept him from Stiles.  
  
(After all, that Stilinski stubbornness was one of the things that had attracted he and Chris to Stiles in the first place, and he would be a fool to discount it now.)  
  
"Not that I don't appreciate the help," he gestured to the superheroes, "but how did my son's disappearance turn into a national emergency?"

Everyone glanced at Bucky, and the former Winter Soldier gestured the Sheriff toward their earlier seats a few feet away from where the rest of them were working. It was barely any privacy, but everyone pretended to focus on other things while Bucky explained the situation to Stiles's father. Peter, of course, could hear clearly the slight intake of breath when the Avenger told Noah about his connection to Claudia, and the his newest beta's heartbeat ticked upwards when Bucky spoke of Stiles's potential abduction by HYDRA. There were other, more personal things as well: experiences shared between Stiles and Bucky that would have meant little to the rest of them, but made the Sheriff smile (or cry, if the slight smell of salt was any indication) a time or two. If it had been anyone else, Peter would have worried about the new beta's control, but, aside from a handful of low rumbles and eye flashes, Noah wore the calm, professional demeanor that had served him well as Sheriff the entire time the two men talked.

By the time the two of them returned to the group, Tony and Chris had narrowed down the list of possible places to search for Stiles to six, Phil, Clint, Steve, and Natasha were organizing the rescue, Thor was trying to start a werewolf question-and-answer session with Derek, Parrish was updating the rest of the Department, and Bruce was rolling his eyes at everyone.

Peter made eye contact with his husband and saw his own thoughts reflected there: they would be getting Stiles back very soon, and woe betide anyone who stood in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not giving this one a final read through before I post, so I apologize for major errors. Feel free to point them out if you find any.
> 
> Also, I appreciate all of your comments. I will respond eventually.

Stiles breathed deeply and tried to think about anything other than the pain periodically flaring through his body. Unfortunately, his captors weren't the usual monologuing-type villains, so he hadn't learned very much about where he was or who was holding him. They hadn't done much to hurt him, but they hadn't treated his injuries, either, so he wasn't exactly at his best. From what little he could gather during his lucid moments, the people that visited him weren't professional enough to be HYDRA, but the equipment certainly suggested that his captors weren't ordinary hunters, either. If there was some other evil organization that existed somewhere between the two (and Stiles was under no illusions that HYDRA was the only club for all of the shady characters of the world), he was out of luck until he figured out what they were after.

Fortunately for him, his captors had been visiting on a fairly regular schedule, so he would likely be left alone for the rest of the morning, giving him a little time to relax, so to speak. He was in no condition to break out at the moment, so he let his mind drift instead to the unorthodox courtship he'd been a part of for the last fourteen months. He hadn't planned on getting involved with Chris and Peter (the possibility had never even occurred to him, actually) but when the two of them had decided to focus their not-inconsiderable attentions on Stiles, the younger man could only hold out for so long before being swept up in the affection.

Stiles's reticence hadn't been about age, or power, or even wealth, but in the fact that he didn't want to bring a completely different kind of trouble to the pack that he was tangentially part of. It was bad enough that the pack had a working relationship with the Sheriff's Department; making things personal among the three of them meant that the ties among them would deepen, which was good, except that it would hurt so much more if he lost them, especially due to his own past.

It was an exquisite kind of torture, because his days were increasingly filled with two considerate, intelligent, affectionate men, but his nights were filled with visions of them, his dad, and the rest of his friends dead at the hands of faceless forces that Stiles couldn't defeat.

Despite the pain, and the bleeding, and the weird medical equipment, Stiles was sure he could eventually get out of _this_ situation, probably before anyone came for him, but he had to wonder just how much trouble he could bring to Peter and Chris's door before it became too much.

With that sobering thought, he pushed aside the pain and started maneuvering a little more.

<> <>

Chris was exhausted, confused, and more than a little angry. Less than forty-eight hours ago, he had been debating the potential consequences of cornering Stiles for a kamikaze makeout session, and now, he was going over battle scenarios with the Avengers and Stiles's newly werewolf father.  
  
It was a situation that probably would have amused Stiles himself, had his abduction not been the reason they were gathered together; a mix of superheroes and the supernatural sounded like the setup for a bad joke. Theirs was an odd group: Bucky kept staring at he and Peter, as if he were trying to decide whether or not Stiles would be upset if he gutted them; Noah kept staring at Bucky, like he was searching for similarities between the super soldier and his late wife, despite them not actually being related in any way; and the rest of the Avengers kept glancing at Agent Coulson like they expected him to suddenly announce Stiles's location.  
  
Chris had no idea what the others were feeling, but he couldn't help but think of the last time he'd seen Stiles, eyes wide with surprise as Chris had stolen a goodnight kiss after their most recent date. Both he and Peter had agreed to take things slowly with Stiles, but since Peter had a habit of pushing boundaries (regardless of his promises), Chris had done his best to take the more traditional approach in an effort to convince Stiles that they were worthy partners. Their kiss had been unexpected, but the pleased look on Stiles's face had led to Chris's plotting ways to get Stiles alone since then; hence, his earlier plans to ambush the younger man.

He'd been moments away from abandoning his work for the day to do just that when he'd gotten the call from Peter about the assault on the Sheriff's house and Stiles's abduction and everything changed.

The deputies were already on the scene by the time Chris arrived, as were a good number of onlookers, but Chris found that he couldn't turn away from the house before him. It wasn't the bullet holes that caught his attention, however, but the smell of gasoline and the sight of charred grass and wood, and the hunter felt himself flinch at the thought that Peter might have lost even more people he cared about to fire.

He could feel Peter's presence thrumming in his blood as his husband grew closer, and by the time the alpha arrived ten minutes later, Chris was practically vibrating in place with _Peter's_ worry and the need to tear something apart. Thankfully, Peter was so focused on getting to the Sheriff that he didn't notice the attempted arson and Chris pushed it aside to fall into the task of being the alpha’s anchor as Peter worked to save Noah’s life.

It was only after the two of them had gotten home that Chris had let himself think about what he had seen at the Stilinskis, and what that might mean for Stiles. If Stiles died, the Avengers might end up having to fight _them_ , because there was very little chance that the Sheriff would survive, Peter wouldn't be much better off, and Chris would probably drink himself to death shortly thereafter.

<> <>

It took almost a week for any of his minders to speak to Stiles, and the first one to do so didn't exactly fill the young man with confidence in his ability to figure out what was going on. Thus far, he'd had people make sure his bindings were secure, that he ate random gunky stuff, and a special memorable pair had thrown some sort of dust at him and mumbled in his direction.  
  
His lack of reaction to said dust (other than a sneezing fit) obviously meant something, because the level of gunk he'd been forced to swallow had raised considerably afterward to the point where Stiles was afraid he'd never be able to eat anything green ever again.  
  
The abductor otherwise known as Pencil Neck (in Stiles's mind, anyway) was both the one that checked on Stiles the most, and the one that seemed least likely to be playing with a full deck. Pencil Neck never fed him questionable gunk or checked his bindings; instead, Pencil Neck's favorite pastimes included poking his fingers in Stiles's injuries and staring at him with something scarily akin to adoration in his eyes.

On the sixth day, when Stiles asked PN if he was getting out of his bindings anytime soon, the other man smiled and said only two words that worried Stiles more than all of the silence of the past few days.

“Soon, soon.”

After PN’s visit, Stiles had an influx of visitors, all smiling and mumbling and touching him in weird but innocuous places, which somehow made it even creepier. They all eyed his injuries with distaste, as if they were irritated that he hadn't healed yet, but if that was the case, then they shouldn't have shot and beat him. They stopped feeding him gunk, which Stiles appreciated, except that it must have been doing something to help his injuries, because he was miserable within a couple of hours of being gunk free.

The only good thing the visits really did was convince him that he wasn't dealing with HYDRA _or_ hunters, but some random group of weirdo squatters with access to an obscene amount of guns. None of them had tried to charm him or frighten him away from the pack or the supernatural in general, like hunters would have, and despite keeping him in a really impressive lab, they hadn't bothered to use ninety-five percent of the things in the room, and scientists (HYDRA or otherwise) wouldn't have turned down the chance to play with all of the shiny toys.

On day eight (or nine, Stiles wasn't really sure anymore) Stiles woke up to pain shooting through his legs as two of the same men that had captured him hauled him to his feet and practically carried him from the lab to a large, open room with candles everywhere and a large stone slab in the center, framed by moonlight coming in the skylight overhead.

There were probably two dozen people scattered around the room, dressed entirely in black, and he bit back a bark of hysterical laughter at the sight as they led him to and chained his arms to the slab.

 _At least they aren't wearing robes and chanting_ , his mind supplied helpfully.

They did, however, kneel down to pray as a group a few moments later, dismissing him completely, and Stiles took the opportunity to yank his admittedly sluggish limbs until he felt something give way and with Bucky’s calm, steady voice in his ears, he let everything else go. He was vaguely aware of his guards reaching for him, but his body was on autopilot as he drove his knee into the first one’s stomach while the chains on his arms went around the second one’s neck.

Someone stabbed him in the side while another one came at him from behind, and Stiles twisted just enough to let Behind-person’s knife stab Ahead-person in the neck before wrenching Ahead-person’s knife from his side and pivoting out of the way of his next attacker to search for Pencil Neck.

The good news (or bad news, maybe) was that most of the people in the room had scattered when the fighting started, so three or four attackers later, Stiles was the only person left standing, and PN was nowhere to be found. Stiles took barely enough time to bunch somebody's shirt up against his wound and grab two of the knives before going in search of his target.

Stiles thought he heard gunshots in the distance, but dismissed them as unimportant as soon as Pencil Neck came into view. He still had that adoring look in his eyes, and Stiles was prepared to throw one of his knives if PN rushed him, but just as Stiles raised his knife, PN took out a blade of his own and stabbed himself in the heart with a smile.

It was enough to pull Stiles out of his stupor, and the young man stood there for a minute, torn between horror and relief, before he started looking for a way out.

Unfortunately, his adrenaline high wore off almost immediately, only to be replaced by bone-deep weariness, and he stumbled. It was a terrible idea for him to stop, but he just didn't have the energy to keep moving, so he let himself slide down the wall and breathe. He was going to rest his eyes for a few minutes, and then he'd figure out how to get out of this crazy place.

Had he stayed awake just a minute longer, he would have heard a familiar howl echoing through the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you tomorrow for the final chapter, and as always, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not totally satisfied with this chapter, but I’m running out of time to post this on schedule, so I need to stop messing with it. I might do an additional little Stiles & Bucky interaction at some point, but don’t quote me on that.

Peter didn't bother holding back as he tore through the hallways of the abandoned fort searching for Stiles. The other five locations had yielded little except more frustration, and as soon as Peter had smelled Stiles on the premises, his rage had known no bounds. He was peripherally aware of Chris, Noah, and Derek behind him, but he paid no attention to the Avengers or anyone who was not directly in his path.

The smell of blood grew stronger as the pack raced through one corridor and into the next, and then he was there: Stiles, pale and limp against the wall; the body of another man with a knife in its heart a few feet away. Noah was already at his son's side before the alpha even registered the movement, cataloging Stiles's injuries and tearing off his own shirt to replace the blood-soaked makeshift bandage around his son's side. Peter felt strangely detached from the moment as he listened to the Sheriff reassure his son in low, soothing tones, and only jerked back into awareness when his new beta snarled at him to come closer and help.

“Damn it, Peter, if you're just going to give up on him now, I'm going to rip your throat out with _my_ teeth!”

Peter didn't even bother to growl at the Sheriff; instead, he pulled Stiles carefully into his arms and began running back toward the plane as quickly as possible, knowing that the others would follow.

<> <>

At the same time that Peter was watching his future with Stiles flash before his eyes, Bucky was moving through the abandoned base like a man possessed. Intellectually, he knew that Peter was going to find Stiles, and that Natasha and Clint were searching for and destroying any intel that would lead back to Stiles or Bucky. It wasn't enough. It was easy to see that the site hadn't been a proper HYDRA base in quite some time, but it still filled the former Winter Soldier with the same simmering rage that he had felt when he first began piecing himself back together. If Stiles was forced to do the same thing...it would be a hard road for both of them.

Either way, by the time he was done with this place, it wouldn't be fit for firewood.

It was a good thing that Bucky had Steve at his back when he came across the room where Stiles had obviously been held, or he might have accidentally hurt himself in his effort to tear the place apart. The table where his nephew had been held down was smeared with blood, and Bucky suddenly flashed back to a time when he, too, was restrained and bleeding.

He saw red.

Bucky came back to himself an indeterminate time later with Steve's firm hand on arm, a steady voice in his ear, and a laboratory in shambles.

He thought of Claudia, and hoped she would forgive him for letting things progress so far.

Peter's roar echoed through the base, signaling that Stiles had been found, and after making sure that no trace of his nephew was left behind, the two men left to rendezvous with the others.

<> <>

The first thing that Stiles registered was quiet beeping, followed by the sensation of careful but unfamiliar hands on his arm. Curious, he let his eyes flutter open directly into the gaze of a certain mostly mild-mannered scientist.  
  
"Welcome back," the man greeted softly. "You're safe, and you’re healing well. Better than expected, really. I’m sorry your dad’s not here, but Tony and I just managed to knock he, Peter, and Chris out for a while," he added, when he saw the younger man searching the room. "They were getting more difficult to handle with the longer it took you to wake up, so we had to get creative. Bucky and Steve should be here soon, though; I'm sure that JARVIS has already told them you’re awake."  
  
Stiles stared at Dr. Banner dumbly, still a little too drowsy to realize that the man had said that his dad, the pack, and Bucky were all finally in the same place, or to really register who was speaking to him.  
  
"Where am I?” he managed.

“This is Avengers Tower. We brought you here after we found you." Bruce paused, and continued quietly, "It was touch and go for a little while, but you’re going to be fine.” He fell silent for a moment, glancing at a machine behind Stiles, and added, “The base was destroyed, and the pack and Bucky killed everyone responsible for your abduction; I thought you'd want to know."

Stiles's brain was still trying to work through that statement when his adoptive uncle entered and parked himself at the foot of Stiles's bed, his best friend in tow. In any other situation, Stiles would have been much more excited about meeting Captain America, but he was still too tired to manage it at the moment.

Steve offered him a sympathetic smile and a light pat on the knee as the two men got comfortable, but Bucky somehow looked even grumpier than usual. It was the kind of face that made Stiles worry every time he saw it. He gestured his honorary uncle forward and grabbed his hand before the man could depress himself any further.

“You know there's nothing that you could've done, right?”

The look on Bucky’s face showed just how little he agreed with that assessment, and a quick glance at Steve proved that he didn't much like it, either. But Stiles had seen enough crazy in Beacon Hills to recognize that craziness couldn’t always be prevented. He pushed away some of the fog in his brain and focused on his uncle. “Do you blame my mom for leaving you behind?”

The former assassin’s eyes widened. “Of course not.”

“I don't blame you, either. Something or someone was always going to show up in Beacon Hills eventually. I was running away from dangerous things in that town for years before you ever showed up; the only thing you did was make me better able to defend myself.”

“I could have done more,” Bucky argued.

“Like what, move in with me and my dad? It would be kind of hard for you to be an Avenger from the other side of the country; not to mention, it would have made both of us more obvious targets.”

“Under the circumstances, I think Stiles did really well,” Steve broke in, cutting his friend off before he could say more.

Stiles snorted. “I didn't really do much besides lay there and bleed, but thanks.”

“You stayed alive long enough for us to rescue you. Considering the state you were in when Peter found you, I'd say that was an accomplishment.”

Stiles only hummed in response, distracted by the way his eyelids suddenly seemed to have weights attached to them. He felt Bucky squeeze his hand, and he forced his eyes back open to look at his uncle.

“We’ll talk about Chris and Peter the next time I wake up, okay? But if you want to scare them a little, I suggest you talk to my dad; he'll tell you what methods of intimidation worked the best for him.”

The next few days were mostly spent sleeping, with brief periods of lucidity in which Stiles ate everything that was put before him (thanks to Tony Stark’s impeccable kitchen staff), and he pretended not to see the alternating sad, considering, and worried looks on the faces of his dad, Chris, and Peter.

Instead of focusing on the reason for his abduction, Stiles and his dad spent most of their time together reminiscing about Claudia, and discussing the role that Bucky would play in Stiles's life going forward. As for Chris and Peter, the alpha practically commended Stiles on his subterfuge, before threatening to relocate all of Stiles's belongings to his and Chris’s home so that they could keep a closer eye of him, while Chris held his hand and obliquely questioned him about everything that Bucky had taught him.

Stiles eventually met each of the Avengers, too: he swapped stories with Steve; discussed the supernatural with Thor; debated scientific theories with Tony and Bruce; watched a lot of TV with Clint (and sometimes, Natasha); and had a frank but non-threatening talk with Coulson about the possibility of Stiles joining SHIELD.

It wasn't until a couple of weeks into his recovery that Stiles realized that no one had so much as hinted about looking into his unique heritage.

<> <>

By the Bruce and Tony finally declared Stiles well enough to leave his room, the young man was so relieved to be free that he didn't care that he wasn't allowed to leave the Tower yet, or even think to complain when his dad brought them fast food for lunch. His dad took full advantage of the lapse and was most of the way through his second burger before he broached the subject.

“Does this mean that you're going to trust me to eat what I want now,” he asked, motioning toward the remnants of his meal, “considering Peter assures me that no werewolf has ever died of heart disease or high cholesterol?”

“Are you kidding me? I have to watch you even _more_ now, or the next thing I know, you'll be chasing down criminals like you're in some action movie and getting yourself into even more dangerous situations just because you're a werewolf.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “It's just a cheeseburger, Stiles.”

“Yeah, first it's a cheeseburger, then you're trying to stop a bank robbery without a gun.”

“We haven't had a bank robbery in Beacon Hills for thirty years,” the Sheriff said drolly.

“There hasn't been a volcanic eruption in the continental U.S. since Mount St. Helens, either, but all of the volcanologists will tell you that another one will happen eventually. Or, what about the earthquake that will eventually drown California? Just because it probably won't happen tomorrow, doesn't mean it will never happen.”

“Can we get back to the point?”

“The point is,” Stiles stated plainly, “that nothing else matters to me, as long as you're safe.”

“Speaking of being safe…”

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, I just..." he sighed, "it was safer if you didn't know, especially after the department allied with the pack. If the government didn't know about werewolves, I certainly wasn't going to lead them straight to the evidence; and if Peter had known, he never would have left it alone, and it would have put _you_ in danger."

"Stiles, I don't care if you have super soldier DNA, or wings and horns, you will always be my kid, and it will always be my job to protect you."

"Dad—"

"Don't argue with me,” the Sheriff grumbled. “Just let me hold you."

<> <>

Despite being gone for less than a month, coming home to Beacon Hills took some adjustment for everyone. Peter and Chris refused to tell the pack what had happened while they were away, though the evidence that something had gone wrong—the Sheriff's new status as a werewolf, the way the pair watched Stiles even more closely—was there for all to see.

Less noticeable, though obvious to everyone who had spent time at the Tower, was the surveillance that followed the four of them around. The Sheriff accepted his shadow gracefully enough, as did Stiles, but the other two had more trouble, even if the agents in question had been personally vetted by Coulson.

Eventually, the men had learned to ignore the SHIELD agents following them. Frankly, Stiles didn't know why they bothered with this aspect of the extra surveillance, considering that the young man was willing to bet his jeep that Stark had bugged them (and the town) so thoroughly that they’d never get rid of them all.

Even with the subtle but undeniable changes to their lives, the courtship between Stiles and the alpha pair resumed as if it had never faltered. Stiles thought it should have been overwhelming on top of everything else, yet Chris and Peter's nearly constant affection somehow only made Stiles feel more secure.

It didn’t stop the teasing, though. And honestly, Peter had shown remarkable restraint in not mentioning his potential heritage earlier. Of course, threats from dark-haired super soldiers might have had something to do with it, too, though neither Bucky nor Peter would admit to anything.

Evidently, a good meal, a bottle of Chris’s special wine, and some smooth jazz made the alpha a regular Chatty Cathy. Also, very handsy. (And Chris, the bastard, was enjoying the whole thing to much too stop it.)

“A super soldier, huh? I look forward to testing the...boundaries of the serum,” he confided with a leer, and Stiles, damn his delicate complexion, felt himself flush.

“Well, not really,” he argued. “I mean, I still trip over everything, and I have a very limited attention span, but—”

“Stiles,” Chris interrupted gently, “you should have bled out. I don't know if it was magic, or a miracle, or mutant DNA, but something saved you, and we couldn't be more grateful.”

And what could Stiles say to that?

“Other than the festering wounds,” Peter snuggled a bit closer and put his hand on Stiles’s thigh, “you did remarkably well for yourself. I have to say, I'm _very_ turned on right now.”

Stiles just barely refrained from rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t stop his grin. _These two_. What would he do without them?

(A lot less _personal_ research, that was for certain.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of my twelve day posting craziness. Thanks for coming along, and for all of your support. 
> 
> I’ll be going back and responding to comments through the end of the year and then I’m going to vanish again, probably for another three months or so. Hopefully, by the time I come back my life will be back to normal and I’ll be able to set up some kind of posting schedule again (monthly, maybe).
> 
> In any case, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Come back tomorrow for the next chapter, and thanks for reading!


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